


Breaking, Mending, and Forging Anew

by InkyWandmaker



Series: Tenderverse [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mending Relationships, Mentions of past abuse, Miklan is a good big brother AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rodrigue is a good if imperfect dad, minor emetophobia, wound cauterization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyWandmaker/pseuds/InkyWandmaker
Summary: Twelve years ago Glenn and Miklan made a choice that they had yet to regret. Now, after Miklan is badly injured at Conand Tower, they must face the consequences their decisions had on their families and either reconcile or walk away.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Glenn Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Glenn Fraldarius & Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Glenn Fraldarius/Miklan, Implied Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Implied Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Implied Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd/Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan
Series: Tenderverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787095
Comments: 45
Kudos: 91





	1. A Stormy Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enamuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/gifts).
  * Inspired by [tender](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761769) by [enamuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko). 
  * Inspired by [take me home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867326) by [enamuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko). 



Rodrigue Fraldarius was awoken at just past one in the morning by an unusual commotion in the entrance hall. He rolled out of bed, unnerved, as he pulled a dressing gown on over his nightshirt and stuffed his feet into his fur lined slippers. Opening the door of his bedroom and venturing out into the hall it wasn’t long before one of the servants came to a halt as soon as they caught sight of him.

“My lord, I was just coming to wake you. We have some...unexpected visitors.”

“Who?” Rodrigue frowned as he fell into step beside the frazzled looking young man. Unexpected visitors at such an hour- during a rain storm no less- were never a good sign. Rodrigue patted the pocket of his dressing gown where he had hidden a dagger. It never paid to go into situations unprepared for the worst possible outcome- the near death of his friend at the hands of his queen had taught them that lesson the hard way.

The servant hesitated for a split second- just long enough to put Rodrigue even more on edge. “Your sons, my lord, and the Crown Prince among several others. They have a gravely wounded man with them.”

Lord Fraldarius briefly faltered in his steps, feeling his apprehension grow even more. “My _sons_?”

“Yes, my lord. Your eldest was carrying the wounded man, his brother was not far behind.”

“Glenn...” Rodrigue quickened his pace, a profound nervousness seeping into his bones. He hadn’t seen his first born in over a decade and there were a million questions going through his head. Where had he been? Why did he leave? Was he okay? 

Rodrigue rounded the corner and, reaching the main staircase down to the entrance hall, took a deep breath before he began his descent. There were a buzz of voices and his blue eyes flicked from person to person- looking for his children among the group of youths.

Rodrigue studied the faces filling his entrance hall, his eyes moving between the faces of Felix’s childhood friends to the face of his best friend’s child who he thought of another son. Dimitri’s face was a picture of exhaustion and apprehension and, despite knowing that he was in good hands with Dedue, he felt the desire to soothe the prince’s worries away regardless. After all, one cannot be handed the only child of one’s dearest friend- still only a few minutes old- and not want to protect him. Still, Rodrigue tore his eyes away from Dimitri and scanned the rest of the vaguely familiar faces- like the ones of Gustav’s daughter and Lonato’s adopted son- and the others who could only be the remaining Blue Lions and their teacher.

Finally, Rodrigue’s eyes fell on a pair of raven haired boys. One stood at just above the shoulder of the other but there was no mistaking that they were brothers- and that they were his sons. Felix caught sight of him first, his dark eyes flicking towards him and his mouth shutting. Upon the faintest tilt of his younger brother’s head, the taller boy stopped and turned and Rodrigue froze on the staircase, his heart in his throat.

Glenn looked exactly the same and yet so very different all at once. His hair was longer, there was a sharpening of his jawline that came with age, he had a new scar running through his left eyebrow, and several piercings ran up the sides of his ears but that did little to diminish the things that were still exactly the same. Features Rodrigue had memorized from the moment his firstborn came into the world like the exact pattern of freckles that dotted his son’s face and the shape of his features from the slope of his nose to the curve of his lips, and the exact shade of blue-green his eyes were. He could still read his eldest’s face like a book- could see the anxiety and fear and exhaustion etched into his features as clearly as printed words on a page- and all Rodrigue wanted to do was run down the rest of the stairs and embrace him, make sure he was really here- whole and safe and sound, but he felt frozen. Was this actually happening or was it just another one of the cruel dreams Rodrigue sometimes had? Dreams where he was reunited with his child only to wake up and realize that it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

For a long moment nothing happened. Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye Rodrigue was standing in front of his eldest and embracing him, pulling him against his chest trying not to gasp at how much taller he was. When Rodrigue had held him last, Glenn had still been just a teenager and had only come up to his shoulder but now? Now he was nearly the same height as him.

Glenn didn’t return the embrace right away- his whole body tensed up like a frightened deer before it gradually relaxed and he curled his arms back around the older man.

“Glenn...” Rodrigue’s voice cracked as a few tears slipped out of his eye. “Thank the Goddess you’re alright.”

“It’s...good to see you too dad.”

After several moments Glenn started to make a movement to step back only for Rodrigue to tighten his embrace, unwilling to let his son go so soon- fearful that as soon as he released him he’d disappear again. Glenn indulged him for another few moments before he extracted himself from his father’s arms, squirming like a irritated cat except much, much stronger. “I have to go- I need..” Glenn looked away from his father’s insistent gaze “I need to be with him. Excuse me...”

Rodrigue watched his eldest turn away from him and swiftly leave the entrance hall, making his way towards the infirmary. For a few seconds, the older man did nothing but stare after his son’s retreating figure, feeling almost as though what just happened was only a result of his overactive imagination. Movement in his peripheral vision snapped Rodrigue back to reality as he watched his other son anxiously shift his weight from foot to foot, obviously just as uncomfortable and exhausted as everyone else surely was. Burying his feelings deep inside, a process Rodrigue had perfected over the years to prevent his heart from shattering every time he visited Lambert in Fhirdiad, he gave a small smile to the assembled group before him.

“It is clear that you have been through much but for now, you should get some rest. My servants will attend you if you require anything. Felix?” Rodrigue turned towards this youngest and held out an arm. “If you would?”

Felix signed and dropped his arms to his sides, rolling his eyes in that spectacular way only a teenager could. Still, the young man stepped forward and allowed his father to put an arm around him and lead him out of the hall and into his private office. No sooner had the door closed behind them did Felix cross his arms again and plaster his usual scowl across his youthful features.

“Don’t even think about asking me anything about him because I don’t know much more than you do and even if I did I wouldn’t tell _you_.”

Rodrigue suppressed the urge to sigh. His youngest had become so...irritable lately but he supposed that it was likely just a phase. After all, Rodrigue had also gotten moody as a teenager and had dreams of defying his father until he matured past it. “I wasn’t going to ask you about Glenn,” he patiently corrected, “I wanted to ask you what happened.”

Felix eyed him suspiciously as he carefully lowered himself onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, his eyes still hard and locked on Rodrigue while he got a fire going. “That’s it?”

Rodrigue held his palms together until he felt the oddly shivery heat grow into an actual flame that he carefully held in cupped hands and deposited in the hearth. He stayed crouched on the flagstones, watching the magically ignited fire for a moment to make sure it had caught the logs before he stood and settled himself in the armchair next to his son. “I won’t lie and say that I’m not curious about your brother but that is a discussion I will have with him. For now, tell me what happened.”

Felix studied his father’s face for a long moment, looking for any sign of a hidden motive. Satisfied, the young swordman nodded once and looked away, unable to have a genuine discussion while maintaining eye contact. Rodrigue suppressed the urge to sigh in frustration as once again he was faced with the impossible realization that Felix was not suited to politics- couldn’t even fake it the way Glenn had eventually learned how to- and yet had no choice but to become the next Duke Fraldarius after Glenn had renounced his title.

“We were sent to retrieve the Lance of Ruin from a group of bandits who had holed up in Conand Tower. We fought our way through to their stronghold, our troops splitting up to better deal with their reinforcements. Sylvain and Miklan has gone ahead on their horses while Glenn and I were further back with some of the others taking care of any stragglers left behind.” Felix paused, a look of unease flitting across his features and Rodrigue shifted forward a bit, frowning. It was rare to see Felix uneasy about discussing a battle- especially one they had apparently won if the lance shaped bundle in Dimitri’s arms had been any indication.

“I didn’t see what happened next but from what Sylvain managed to tell me they cornered their leader and demanded he return the Lance. Instead of surrendering, the bandit made a lunge to attack Sylvain and Miklan stepped in front of him and took the Lance right under his rib cage. Glenn and I heard the scream and-“ Felix swallowed, his face pale. “Sylvain said Miklan had stepped forward and punched the guy before he pulled the lance out and finished him off but by the time we got there Miklan was unconscious on the floor...there was blood everywhere...”

Rodrigue reached across the gap between the chair and the sofa and gently placed a comforting parental hand on his youngest’s shoulder. Felix flinched, giving him a half hearted glare, but didn’t shrug it off and that, more than anything, told Rodrigue just how traumatizing the scene must have been. Felix hadn’t been receptive of any kind of comfort or physical affection from him in at least 3 years. After a moment of silence during which he pretended not to notice his son’s faint tremor, the older man gently prompted his son to keep going. “Then?”

“Glenn ran over and started trying to heal him but the wounds weren’t closing and Sylvain was freaking out and I could tell Glenn was starting to panic as well. Glenn told me to get Sylvain out of there and not to look but...” A single tear slipped down Felix’s face and he impatiently brushed it away, giving his palm a brief disgusted look that screamed _how_ dare _you show emotion without my consent_. After a moment of glaring, Felix huffed a barely noticeable sigh. “I saw Glenn lifting up Miklan’s tunic with one hand and casting fire with his other and I looked away but...”

Rodrigue immediately felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably as he stood up and moved to sit beside his son on the sofa, putting an arm around his shoulders. Cauterization was a nasty business and one that he had hoped neither of his children would need to witness. Just thinking about it was enough to make Rodrigue nauseous- his memory unhelpfully reminding him of the time he’d had to hold his twin brother Serene still while Prince Rufus had cauterized a deep cut made by a cursed ice blade. Sometimes Rodrigue would wake up in a cold sweat, still hearing his brother’s barely muffled screams of agony. Goddess and Glenn had been the one to do it...

“Glenn,” Felix swallowed harshly then continued through gritted teeth, “ _stopped the bleeding_ and while we waited for the others to catch up the thief’s body started jerking and there were these black tendrils coming from the Lance and then they were covering the body and it looked like it was eating him until-“

“They turned into a demonic beast,” Rodrigue finished, a deep frown on his face. Felix whipped his head around, surprised.

“How did you..?”

Rodrigue shook his head. “Later. The bandit turned into a demon and...”

Felix stared into the fire, eyes glazed over in an attempt to not relive the whole ordeal- a useful tactic for any warrior. “Glenn carried Miklan out of the way and when the others came we fought it. The professor felled it and the black stuff fell away until all that was left was the body and the Lance. Sylvain was too upset and distracted over Miklan to want to grab the Lance but eventually the Bo- _Prince Dimitri_ \- collected it for him, and wrapped it up in the bandits’ flag, knowing Sylvain wouldn’t want to see it. Glenn carried Miklan over to his horse and rode tandem out of the tower. After that, we went to get help.”

Rodrigue frowned, wondering if he was somehow misremembering where Conand Tower was. “If you needed emergency medical attention then why are you here? Gautier’s estate is considerably closer to Conand Tower.”

Felix grit his teeth and a look of pure fury crossed his face. “ _He refused._ ”

“What?”

“Margrave Gautier refused to treat Miklan. He wouldn’t even let him into the estate. He said ‘it’s none of my concern what happens to him, he’s no son of mine and he’s not welcome here.’”

Rodrigue felt a chill run up his spine. He knew Gautier had disowned Miklan but he never imagined he would go so far as to refuse to aid his gravely injured son. What kind of father did that? Just the thought of one of Rodrigue’s children- his _babies_ \- bleeding and nearing death sent his heart racing and there wasn’t a single thing his children could do that would make Rodrigue change the deeply rooted fact that he would do _anything_ to prevent that scenario from coming to pass and until that moment, he had assumed every parent felt the same way.

Red hot rage quickly followed the shock, the hand curled protectively around his youngest tightening. Later. He would deal with Gautier later.

There was a profound stillness to the room, the only sounds being the fire crackling in the hearth and the rain pattering against the window. Felix sniffed once and stared intently at the fire while Rodrigue absentmindedly rubbed small soothing circles on his youngest child’s back as struggled to find anything to say in the face of these revelations.

“...why wouldn’t they close?”

Rodrigue blinked and looked over at Felix, unsure if he had imagined his question or not. “Pardon?”

“The wounds. Why wouldn’t they close?”

The older man sighed, pushing his wavy hair back off his face. “Hero’s Relics are mysterious and powerful objects- each with their own unique properties. Wounds sustained by the Lance of Ruin cannot be closed by anything save extremely advanced healing magic or, as your brother was unfortunately forced to demonstrate, drastic emergency medical intervention.” 

“Is that also why he turned into a demon?”

“Most likely. The relics...they don’t like to be handled by anyone who does resonate with their associated crest and the phenomenon you witnessed is a well-documented if not well-known one. No one understands why it happens, just that the longer someone without a crest handles a relic, the more the relic- for lack of a better term- _fights back_.”

Felix nodded once and Rodrigue looked him over. Whenever anyone saw him with his children they immediately remarked on how alike they looked- a undeniably true statement- but they never mentioned the features that were so obviously from their mother. Felix’s eyes, Glenn’s smattering of light freckles, both of their smiles...they were all Cora. Rodrigue rubbed at his eyes, trying not to think about how his late wife would have known exactly what to say in this situation. Rodrigue had never been very good at this sort of thing and suddenly he felt as tired as Felix looked.

“Go wash up and get some rest, son. Goddess knows you need it.”

“Fine,” Felix stood and walked towards the door only to stop with his hand on the knob. “-and dad?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you _dare_ give Glenn a reason to leave again. Not after we just got him back.”

—:—

Glenn sat on the stiff, hard backed chair and tenderly ran his thumb back and forth over his husband’s pale hand, the pad occasionally brushing the simple silver band he wore- identical to his own in every way. It was far from his first bedside vigil and he prayed desperately that it wouldn’t be his last- that Miklan would make a full recovery and live to recklessly fight another day.

Because right now Glenn wasn’t sure if he’d make it through the night.

The healers has done their best, undoing the bloody field dressings and pushing healing magic into his too still body. The ugly burn that Glenn had made to stop the majority of the bleeding faded and- to the healers’ horror- the underlying wound, without it’s gruesome bandage, just reopened, looking as deep and deadly as it had back at the Tower. Repeated attempts to heal didn’t help and it wasn’t until he head healer cast Fortify that there was any noticeable change at all and even then...

In the end they’d had to delicately cauterize the damaged blood vessels, stitch it up, and slather the whole wound with antiseptics. Worryingly, or perhaps mercifully depending on how one looked at it, Miklan hadn’t so much as twitched during the whole process- still unconscious from the blood loss, shock, and pain. About an hour ago the healers had retired, unable to do anything else for the red head at the time, and left Glenn to his silent vigil.

They had recommended he also rest but the idea of leaving Miklan alone while on death’s door was so abhorrent that Glenn balked at the very idea. No, he would not leave. He would never leave his husband- not for anyone or anything. Whatever they did, they would do together. For better or worse.

If they wanted Glenn to leave and _’get some rest’_ they would have to physically drag him away kicking and screaming.

Glenn’s eyes trailed up Miklan’s arm and settled on his face. While Glenn had his own fair share of scars littering his body, Miklan collected them like some people collected coins or books- the worst of which being the nasty scar cutting across his face. That was received when he ran ahead to stop a group of soldiers from killing a young Duscan boy they had been intending to sell into slavery until he escaped their captivity. Miklan had rushed ahead and taken out 2 of the three slavers but the leader had slashed him across the face with a Devil Sword before Glenn could cast Bolting and end his miserable life. 

Glenn had of course healed what he could but he was a mercenary, not a healer, and a wound from a cursed blade was beyond his skill to heal but Miklan never seemed to care about that particular scar.

Not like he cared about the one on his jaw- the one he would still shy away from letting Glenn touch, the memory of receiving it enough to leave a sort of phantom pain he was unable to talk about until he was well and truly drunk.

Glenn stood, his body protesting the movement loudly after continuously riding and carrying his husband for hours, and retrieved a wash cloth from the basin of water the healers had left on the bedside table. The medicinal herbs the water had been boiled with in preparation for surgery now floated in the cool tea-like mixture. Gently, he wiped away the dried blood sticking to Miklan’s temple- a wound he had healed himself before they even got to the Gautier estate.

Glenn’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to relax it. Any fleeting remnants of respect he had once had for his husband’s father had been destroyed when Sylvain- frantic and terrified for the sake of his brother- had begged his father to help Miklan only to be told he didn’t have a brother anymore- that the fate of some “disgraceful vagabond” was none of his concern. Sylvain had started to cry and Felix had been the one to escort him away, giving the man the coldest scowl he could muster.

If Glenn hadn’t literally been carrying his husband, he would have stabbed the Margrave right in his ugly black heart.

Behind him, the door to the infirmary opened and closed. Glenn didn’t turn to look, focused on the task at hand, but knew who it was regardless just by his footsteps: a smooth and purposeful gait that spoke of both political and physical power but weren’t light enough to be a swordsman’s.

“How is he?” His father’s voice broke the silence of the room, genuine concern along with some unnamed... _emotion_ Glenn couldn’t place coloring his usually boisterous way of speaking.

“Not good. He’s lost a lot of blood and it looks like he might be fighting an infection too.” Glenn tenderly brushed a few strands of red off his clammy forehead, resisting the urge to press a kiss to his brow in front of the current company. “He’s burning up...”

Rodrigue pulled another chair up to the opposite side of the young man’s bed, settling himself into the uncomfortable seat as best he could. He watched as his eldest placed a cool compress over his brow and sat down on Miklan’s left, taking his cold hand in his own.

For a few minutes no one spoke and Rodrigue studied his son, taking in the wedding ring on his finger that matched the one in his hand. Miklan. In hindsight it was obvious- he should have _known_.

They had been friends since they were toddlers- had shared _everything_ with each other. He remembered how Glenn would insist on coming with him when he had to travel to the Gautier estate and how he’d beg to stay longer- just one more day. He remembered how they had grown even closer once Sylvain and Felix had been born, bonding over their shared experiences as brothers- trading tips on how to best soothe away nightmares and bandage scraped knees among other brotherly wisdoms they had accumulated.

He should have known they were in love. Sure they probably tried to hide it but if he had just taken one second to read between the lines...Goddess he had been so _stupid_.

Glenn had asked him. He had fucking _asked him_ why he had to marry Ingrid. Why he couldn’t marry who he wanted. Then there had been his sudden interest in romance novels, digging ever deeper in their library to find one that matched the way he felt.

Rodrigue wasn’t sure if he had just been blind or if he had purposely tried not to see what was happening right in front of his face. He used to lie awake at night, wondering why Glenn had left. What happened? It had been tempting during the first few years to blame Miklan- think that he coerced him into running away with him but he knew that wasn’t what happened. Miklan wouldn’t have made Glenn do something he didn’t want to do- even before Rodrigue knew what he did now, it was clear they respected each other too much to force the other to do something.

But in the end it was Rodrigue himself who had pushed his son away. He had been so wrapped up in securing a future for his children, arranging a life of success so that if something ever happened to him, they wouldn’t be thrust unprepared into a role they had no idea how to fulfill like he had, that he had forgotten that perhaps Glenn might have wanted something else. Maybe he didn’t want to be a knight- didn’t want to carry on a line of noblemen and uphold tradition. Maybe he wanted something different.

Maybe he wanted Miklan. Rodrigue could understand that. He too had wanted what he couldn’t have when he was younger. Hell- he _still_ wanted what he couldn’t have.

“I’m sorry.”

Glenn started, glancing away from Miklan for the first time since he sat down and looking at his father. Outwardly he looked much the same as he had a decade ago but he seemed...older. There was a weight in his words, a sadness in his eyes, and Glenn couldn’t help but think that he was partially to blame for that. Before he could figure out what to say, Rodrigue continued.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t come to me about this,” the older man nodded to Miklan’s prone form. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I would love you less for who you loved.”

Unbidden, a tear slipped out of Glenn’s eye and before he could wipe it away more fell. It was like the dam he had built to keep his emotions in check had been cracked and was now rapidly falling apart.

Tears turned to sobs and before he could even process what had just happened there were arms around him and his face was pressed up against a warm muscular chest.

“It’s ok...let it out. I’m here.”

Rodrigue slowly began to sway as Glenn sobbed against the tunic he had pulled on when it had become clear he wouldn’t be finding his bed again that night, falling back on his deeply engrained parental instincts cultivated over nearly 30 years. His eldest clutched at his back, desperately holding him closer, the sobs wracking his body. Rodrigue quietly hushed his child, stroking his rain dampened hair and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. 

Glenn cried harder than he had in years- decades even- and wrapped up in his father’s strong and loving embrace, a wound he hadn’t even realized he’d had healed and a relationship he had been afraid to miss mended- he slept.

—:—


	2. Nightmares and Awakenings

The first thing that crossed Glenn’s mind upon waking was that there was a conspicuous lack of another person in his bed- something he had grown unaccustomed to in the last decade. Sleepily, the ran his hand across the crisp sheets, fingers searching for the singular constant in his life.

The second was the thought that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He had meant to stay up and keep watch over his wounded husband- to make sure he didn’t take a turn for the worse in the night.

With a jolt Glenn shot up in bed, his heart rate skyrocketing as he frantically took in his surroundings. He was on an unoccupied bed in the Fraldarius Estate’s infirmary, the familiar smell of medicinal herbs confirming that fact. The room was still mostly dark, any candles or oil lamps long since burned out and the faint grey light of morning not enough to properly illuminate anything. Still, Glenn could have identified the figure on the bed immediately to his left by touch alone. Miklan.

Glenn got out of bed and strode over to his still unconscious husband. Gently he ran a hand through his fiery hair, letting his heartbeat slow upon seeing the steady rise and fall of the muscular man’s chest. The swordsman lit the candle on Miklan’s bedside table and was cautiously optimistic about what he saw.

It looked like some color had started to return to Miklan’s face and his breaths were deeper- more regular. A quick brush of the hand over Miklan’s brow confirmed that his fever had broken sometime during Glenn’s impromptu nap, his body finally beginning the process of pulling itself back together. Glenn sighed in relief, feeling like for the first time in nearly 36 hours he could finally breathe. Hopefully this meant that the worst was finally over.

At least the worst physically, the political fallout was sure to be catastrophic.

Stepping around the bed, Glenn went to take up his customary post at his husband’s bedside once more only to pause. The uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in ever since he had arrived had been replaced by a much more comfortable cushioned one from the dining room. 

His father must have exchanged them after he had fallen asleep. Glenn smiled softly, the conversation from earlier warming him up better than a blazing fire in a snowstorm ever could. His father accepted him- excepted _them_ \- he wouldn’t have to lose the love of his last surviving parent.

If only Miklan could say the same.

The visit to the Gautier estate was so obviously a mistake that just remembering how he had caved to the pressure and allowed for his husband to be brought there made him want to choke his past self. Nothing good could have ever come from asking Gautier for help and in the end all it had done was waste precious time.

Glenn took his husband’s hand in his own, gently squeezing. Wasting his energy bemoaning previous decisions wouldn’t help anymore: Miklan was still alive and stable and that was all that mattered. Hell, maybe now people would stop giving Miklan crap for not getting in contact with Sylvain sooner. 

Although in the few weeks between reuniting with their brothers and now, Miklan had made significant progress in defrosting the Blue Lions’ opinions of him. He had made himself useful as a listening ear, advice giver, and sparring partner and used his frustratingly laidback charm to establish new bonds.

Just in the past two weeks Miklan had helped Annette salvage a pot about to boil over, Ashe carry an unexpectedly heavy delivery to the storeroom, Mercedes reorganize the clinic’s medicines on the upper shelves, Dedue weed and water the greenhouse, and was a convienent sparring partner for Ingrid, Dimitri, and Felix. Frankly, it made Glenn equally ecstatic that others were finally seeing what a great guy Miklan was and also jealous of how easily his husband forged new bonds. It wasn’t fair how skilled he was- a crest meant nothing if it’s bearer couldn’t back it up with allies and that had always been Glenn’s weak point.

Which made it all the more baffling to Glenn that Margrave Gautier could look at Miklan and call him useless with a straight face- hell, Miklan was ten times more useful than Augustus Gautier would ever be and the presence or absence of a crest would never change that.

Glenn jumped a little bit when he felt his own hand being squeezed back- so weakly he wasn’t sure if it had actually happened or if it was just wishful thinking on his part but a glance at Miklan’s face confirmed it to be true. While his eyes were still shut it was no longer the relaxed face of someone asleep and instead the face of someone waking up against their will- eyes scrunched tight and mouth slightly downturned.

“Miklan?”

“Ughh...G-Glenn?” His eyes opened a crack, unfocused and sleepy. “That you?”

Glenn nodded furiously, taking his husband’s hand in between his own and squeezing again. “Yes! Yes I’m here. Goddess I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Bleary golden eyes tried to focus as Miklan squinted at his face. “You hurt?” he croaked, voice rough from pain and disuse.

Glenn shook his head. “No. No I’m fine.”

Miklan made a noncommittal noise as he attempted to sit up and verify his husband’s statement only to gasp at the pain in his side and flop back down to the mattress. “And S-Sylvie. He ok?”

“Mmhm. Felix too. Everyone is ok.” Glenn brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “We’re all ok...”

“Where are we?”

“Fraldarius Estate. The infirmary. You’ve been unconscious for over 30 hours.”

“What happened?” Miklan tried to sit up once again, hissing in pain. Glenn quickly helped him up, adjusting the pillows so he was supported. “I-It hurts...”

“You were stabbed by the Lance at Conand Tower. You passed out nearly immediately after you killed the bandits’ leader. You’ve been unconscious ever since.”

“ _Fuck_.” Miklan’s eyes started to focus as he slowly looked Glenn up and down. “Are you really okay?”

“Yes I just told you, I wasn’t hurt at the tow-“

“I wasn’t asking if you were _hurt_ I was asking if you are _okay._ ”

Glenn bit his lip and sat down on the edge of the bed, slowing down and processing how he was feeling for the first time since they entered that Goddess forsaken tower. How for a heart stopping few seconds he had thought he’d been too late and then, upon realizing that if he didn’t do something _immediately_ Miklan would die in his arms, he had done the only thing he could think of...

Guiltily, Glenn let his eyes fall onto the thick white bandages wrapped around Miklan’s torso, his hands starting to shake as he felt the vortex of anxiety attempting to drag him under with thoughts of how he could have prevented this from occurring and what he could have done differently.

“Glenn,” Miklan purposefully squeezed his husband’s hand until he stopped staring at his bandages and looked him in the eye. “It’s not your fault.”

“...but I should have been there. I never should have let us split up. If I had been there-“

“-then I would have been trying to protect two people instead of one.” Miklan cut Glenn off, face hard as stone. “Glenn, dwelling on what could have happened differently is going to do nothing but drive you insane- I’m here, you’re here, Sylvain and Felix are here. That’s all that matters.”

“... _I had to burn you,_ ” Glenn whispered, leaning forward to rest his head on Miklan’s shoulder. “I...I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Healing magic wasn’t working and you were bleeding out and-“

“Shhh,” Miklan turned his head and buried his lips in Glenn’s hair, “you did what you had to with what you had at your disposal and I’m proud of you. Besides, I don’t even really remember it.”

“ _But I do..._ ”

Miklan leaned back, brows furrowed in concern, “what was that?”

Glenn shook his head as if physically shaking the thought out of his head and dragged a smile onto his lips. Miklan was right, everyone was alive and everything else was just details.

“It’s nothing,” Glenn brushed a hand across Miklan’s cheek, smiling when Miklan turned his head and kissed his palm. “I should get the healers. You’re due to have your bandages changed. I also promised Sylvain I’d go get him as soon as you were awake.”

Miklan groaned at the mention of healer and, before Glenn could stand up and of his reach, he caught his wrist. “Hang on, c’mere for a sec.” Glenn obliged, turning back to face his husband and sighing happily when Miklan pulled him down a pressed a kiss against his lips. “I love you.”

“Mmm...I love you too.” Glenn forced himself to only peck his lips again, chaste and affectionate, when what he really wanted to do was just melt into his husband’s embrace and forget everything that had happened like he _knew_ Miklan was trying to get him to do. Miklan hated being poked and prodded and, if he had his way, would just tough out whatever injuries he had sustained. “But you still need to see a healer.”

“Fuck!”

—:—

For the past 36 hours, Sylvain felt like he had been moving through a fog. He remembered watching his brother- the only _real_ family he had- step in front of the attack meant for him. He’d had a front row seat to exactly how everything went down: how the lance hit his ribs and pushed down into his side, the unnatural orange of the spear releasing an arch of red energy like lightning in its wake of destruction. He saw Miklan step forward, screaming even as he willingly pushed the spear in further, the cursed weapon pushing in nearly to the base of the blade and jerking up to hit the underside of his brother’s ribs with a wet scraping sound. There had been a loud crack of bone breaking as Miklan pulled his fist back and punched the thief full in the face, the man crumpling to the floor.

And just when he had thought the horror was over, Miklan had ripped the spear out of his side and plunged in into the man’s chest, impaling him on the cold flagstones like an insect in a glass case. Sylvain could remember the ragged breaths Miklan made as he gripped the spear, leaning his whole weight on it to keep himself upright as his blood pooled at his feet at an alarming rate. Sylvain saw some of it was trickling out the side of Miklan’s mouth, a telltale sign of internal bleeding as he turned, looked right at him, and smiled before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he dropped like a sack of bricks.

Sylvain has frozen then, hearing and seeing nothing except the sight of his brother laying motionless on the stone floor and the echo of his agonized scream ringing in his ears. Distantly, he became aware that someone else had entered the chamber, heard an anguished cry as Glenn sprinted forward and skidded to a stop on his knees. Sylvain had felt hands on his shoulder and knew he was being asked something but all he could do was stare forward in disbelieving shock as Glenn cast heal right over the gaping wound in his brother’s side and it did _nothing_.

Glenn had looked up at the person desperately trying to get his attention, belatedly realizing it must have been Felix, and said something. Felix had then forcibly turned his body to face him, shaking his shoulders to try to snap him out of his stupor. Sylvan had blinked, nodding once to whatever Felix had just said and allowed himself to be pulled away from the gruesome scene in front of him. They had taken maybe 5 clumsy steps before a bloodcurdling scream had brought him to a screeching halt. Felix had pulled, desperately trying to get him to keep moving but- despite his best friend’s protests- he had looked.

Goddess he shouldn’t have looked.

Glenn’s hand had been pressed flush to Miklan’s side and was glowing white hot with fire. There was a weird sound- almost like sizzling- and the rancid smell of burning flesh reached his nose, turning his stomach as he gagged and vomited in the corner- Felix holding him while he heaved. The others arrived and, because apparently the Goddess had decided that Sylvain’s day could get even worse, the Lance of Ruin had started to pulse.

Black tendrils flowed out from the spear’s crest stone and enveloped the twitching corpse of the bandit, wrapping him up over and over as he got bigger. Mercedes had cried out in horror and many of his classmates had likewise gasped and shaken their heads in disbelief at what was happening before them.

A demon. The Lance had turned the man into a fucking demon right before their eyes. Was this where those monsters came from?

 _This can’t be real._ Sylvain has thought hysterically as his friends charged the beast, surrounding it and attacking it with everything they could. _I must be dreaming. Wake up. Wake UP Sylvain!_

“Sylvain? Are you in there?”

The red head bolted upright, gasping raggedly. Someone was at the door. Beside him, Felix groaned and pulled his pillow over his head while Sylvain threw the covers aside and answered the door, trying to forget the fact that he looked like hell.

Glenn stood just outside his brother’s bedroom, not surprised to have found Sylvain inside. He looked the young man up and down, taking in the haunted look in his eyes and his rumbled appearance- still in his traveling clothes. “Sylvain-“

“Is he aliv- _ok_?” Sylvain cut in, amending his thought last minute as his heart beat hard and fast. He couldn’t let himself think like that. Glenn frowned a bit but nodded.

“Yes, he just woke up. The healers are looking him over now. I thought you’d want to see him.”

Sylvain covered his mouth and cried, falling forward as the tension got to him and he felt a huge weight lift off his body, relieved beyond words to hear the news Miklan was awake- his brother was _alive_. Glenn carefully pulled Sylvain into a hug, unsure if he was crossing any boundaries but unable to not at least try and comfort his brother-in-law (holy _shit_ ). Glenn carefully pat Sylvain’s back a few times in what he hoped was a soothing gesture while he collected himself.

“I’m o-okay. Let’s go.”

Glenn eyed him, unconvinced, but ultimately nodded and led the way back downstairs to the infirmary. Sylvain’s mind raced with increasingly more anxiety inducing images of what he might see when he reached his destination. Sure Miklan was conscious but that could mean any number of things. Was he stable or was he just barely holding on? What would the healers say about his fate long term? Sylvain knew the Lance was very powerful and often deadly- the wounds caused by it gruesome and dangerous- but now that he had actually seen what it did to people?

He never wanted to even _look_ at that fucking thing much less actually _use_ it.

Glenn opened the door to the infirmary and both he and Sylvain froze at what they saw.

Clustered around Miklan’s bed the healers were all chattering to one another- some visibly excited while others nervous and confused. Glenn recognized the head healer in a heated debate with his husband, catching snippets of their conversation.

“I assure you, our instruments are perfectly accurate-“

“And _I_ assure _you_ that they can’t be. How could something like that just- just _show up_ out of the blue like that!?”

“Perhaps there had been a mistake when you were younger- perhaps they just missed it.”

“Have you even _met_ my father? Do you really think that bastard wouldn’t thoroughly test me beyond a shadow of a doubt for-“ Miklan’s eyes darted over to his husband and brother, finally noticing them. “Guys- please tell this man that I _don’t_ have a fucking crest.”

Before either of them could speak, the head healer huffed. “Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

The man muttered an incantation under his breath as he pressed his hand over Miklan’s heart and slowly lifted it- everyone watching in shock and awe as in a glow of red-orange a very distinctive sigil rose up from right over his heart as if attached to the healer’s hand by a string.

The mirrored halves of an arc ending in a sickle and punctuated by lines was instantly recognized by all in the room as the Major Crest of House Gautier- the same crest Miklan had both loathed and longed for, had been unloved for not having and abused for not respecting. The surrounding healers all renewed their excited whispering as the head healer smirked and dropped the incantation.

“See? I told you I wasn’t wrong.”

—:—


	3. A Breakfast Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOO BOY ITS BEEN A LONG TIME HUH???
> 
> I’m sorry it took me so long to get this one out, I kind of hit a snag and didn’t have the motivation to get it worked out UNTIL there was some renewed interest in this fic and enamuko wrote a sequel to the fIC THAT INSPIRED THIS WORK IN THE FIRST PLACE AND ITS THE BEST THING IVE EVER READ.
> 
> Seriously. You should check it out. It’s called [take me home by enamuko](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867326/chapters/57370165) and it directly flows into my fic and I am still dying over it.

—:—

Glenn and Felix sat on either side of their father at their family’s dining room table, Felix slumped forward with his elbow on the table and cheek in his hand, impatiently drumming his fingers on the polished walnut while his brother maintained a more dignified posture, head turned to gaze distantly out the window lost in thought. Rodrigue sat at the head and calmly waited for either their early breakfast to arrive or for one of his sons to speak- whichever came first although he suspected that it would most likely be the food.

Something had happened although what it could be he had no idea. Rodrigue would have heard if Miklan had died and if his eldest actually came up to dine with him then he must be somewhat stable. Then what?

After the emotional roller coaster that was last night, Rodrigue was hesitant to say anything to break the tentative peace that that descended upon the household. Glenn was _back_ \- he was safe and alive and healthy. The wonder of looking to his right and seeing his eldest sitting at the family table still made something bright and shivery bubble up within Rodrigue and catch in his throat.

The door to the kitchens opened and servants swept into the room, arms laden with plates and food. Glenn snapped out of his trance as a plate of eggs and bacon with toast and tea was placed before him, just managing to murmur a thanks before the server had moved on. Likewise, Felix slowly sat up straight- acting for all the world like he was being put upon to do so, still looking ashen and exhausted- beginning to pick at his eggs while Glenn sipped at his tea.

Finally, after a few minutes of silent eating Rodrigue sighed, gathered his courage, and cleared his throat to gain the attention of both his children before speaking. “So. What happened?”

Glenn fidgeted a bit, fingers running along the rim of his teacup absentmindedly. “I’m...not sure honestly. I’ve never heard of something like this happening.”

Rodrigue immediately turned to ask for clarification only for Felix to roll his eyes and cut in. “Spare us the pronoun game- what is this ‘this’ you’re referring to?”

Rodrigue clicked his tongue at Felix and gave him a reprimanding look but there was no real heat to it. After all, asking Felix to be polite was a loosing battle. Across the table Glenn glared at his little brother, irritated.

“Maybe if I knew myself I could tell you,” he hissed, hands on the table and leaning forward slightly, irritable from lack of sleep and stress. Felix opened his mouth to say something snarky back and Rodrigue held up a hand.

“Enough. Both of you.” Slowly, the Duke’s sons lowered their hackles and once they began to eat again, he took a sip of his tea. “Now, Glenn? Can you try to explain?”

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, not of exasperation but of exhaustion. “I don’t know. Miklan woke up and I went to get Sylvain while the healers checked him over and when we got back they were saying they found a crest.”

Felix dropped his fork with a clatter and Rodrigue also found himself almost choking on his tea, only just managing to maintain his composure at the last moment. Carefully, the Duke set his tea cup down, trying to formulate a response.

The first thought that came to mind was there had to be some kind of mistake. It was- well not _common_ knowledge exactly- but at least well known among the Kingdom Nobles that Margrave Gautier’s firstborn was crestless. Given the ridged ideals Gautier held about crests being necessary to inherit, it was near impossible for him to have made a mistake. Poor Miklan must have been tested numerous times as a child- each probably more invasive than the last- until Gautier gave up and had another child. Rodrigue had always disliked that about his fellow noble.

But Miklan suddenly manifesting a crest out of the blue well into his twenties? Unheard of. _Something_ had to have triggered it but what could possibly...

“The lance.”

Both of his children looked at him, confused. Felix furrowed his brow, scowling. “What are you talking about old man?”

“Perhaps the crest manifested as a result of Miklan’s injury. He was stabbed with his family’s relic correct?”

“Yes,” Glenn said, still frowning slightly as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger in what was clearly a nervous habit. “But how he got it isn’t really what’s worrying me. I’m worried about how he’s going to handle the outcome from it.”

Felix nodded in understanding and Rodrigue frowned. “What do you think will happen?”

Both of his son’s hesitated, looking at each other as if debating on what they should and shouldn’t tell him. “Well...” Glenn began, trailing off as he fidgeted.

“He’s worried about what Margrave Gautier will do to Miklan when he finds out.” Felix made eye contact with his older brother, “right?”

Glenn nodded and Rodrigue frowned. There was obviously something the two of them knew that he didn’t. “What do you think he’ll do?”

Glenn looked sad all of a sudden, sighing heavily. He fixed his eyes on the dark stained wood to avoid making eye contact with his father and brother. “A few years after Sylvain was born, I was visiting the Gautier estate with mom when Miklan knocked on my door after sundown. He came in, nose all bloody and face bruised to hell and back and when I asked him what happened he just shook his head. Finally, after prying I learned that Gautier had beat Miklan so hard he broke his nose.” Glenn twisted his hands together, clearly upset at recounting the memory. 

“After bandaging it up he confided in me that it’s been like that ever since his little brother was born. I believe his exact words were ‘my parents don’t love me anymore because I don’t have a crest and Sylvie does.’” Glenn sipped his tea to try and swallow the lump in his throat divulging such information gave him. He didn’t need to look up to know that his brother and father were looking on with horror.

“I tried to tell him to tell someone but he wouldn’t. I think he was afraid that he’d get caught and get another ‘punishment.’ As he got older he kind of...gave up trying to get his parents to care about him and instead would fight them over what they were doing to Sylvain. Correctly accused them of not actually caring about their children, just the crests that they might or might not have. Gautier obviously wouldn’t take such ‘disrespect’ lying down and would frequently ‘teach him a lesson.’ I don’t know all the things he did during those... _lessons_ -“ Glenn spat the word out, furious “-but I do know he was responsible for breaking Miklan’s arm and his nose not once but twice before we left.”

Glenn fell silent and Rodrigue desperately tried to wrap his mind around the information he was just given. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that something was wrong. After all, it seemed that every time the eldest Gautier boy visited he was hurt in some way- almost as if he’d rather have stayed with them to recover than with his own family. When pressed Miklan had always shrugged it off as the result of a training accident but if he had looked into it just a little bit...

Rodrigue was beginning to think that he might have actually been blind. How else could he continuously miss so many obvious things?

“Sylvain says that the only reason his father cares about him is because he has a crest,” Felix broke the heavy silence, a frown on his face. “He doesn’t _actually_ care about him as a person. I shudder to think how he’ll react if he finds out that his disowned firstborn who he had cast aside as useless now has the Major Crest of Gautier.” Felix added, eyes blazing with a fury that Rodrigue understood all too well.

Rodrigue thought on what he remembered about Miklan Anschutz Gautier prior to his son’s elopement. Miklan had always been a bit gruff, both in actions and in speech, but seemed to have his head on straight. Despite being a bit...unpolished, he was always respectful durning the few times he spoke with him one on one and, following an accident when they were still boys where Glenn had fallen while climbing a tree and hurt himself, Cora had remarked on how Miklan had carried Glenn in on his back instead of retrieving someone to help him.

Miklan was also _strong_ \- built like his father with all towering bulk and a proclivity for packing on muscle like his life depended on it. With a jolt, Rodrigue realized that very well could have been the case. After all, he had heard stories about the Gautier firstborn being sent into battle against the Sreng warriors with just a few of his father’s soldiers and pulling off a victory despite being only a teenager and never attending a military academy of any kind.

A chilling thought crept over Rodrigue as, faced with the new information his sons had just disclosed, Miklan being sent to the boarder took on a much more sinister meaning. Perhaps Margrave Gautier hadn’t intended on his son returning from battle. Maybe Miklan’s constant defiance towards his father on behalf of his baby brother had irritated him enough that he wanted to get rid of him without loosing face.

And what better way to loose a son than to have them die heroically in battle.

“So we don’t tell him,” Rodrigue declared, his voice hard and tinged with steel- the voice he used to end debates and get men to do what he told them. On either side his sons snapped their attention to their father, knowing when Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius spoke like that, you listened for that meant his mind was made up on the matter. “If Gautier wants to throw his children away when he no longer considers them useful then that’s his loss, our gain. Personally, I would consider it a great honor to have someone like Miklan for a son. In fact- he should officially join House Fraldarius.”

Glenn choked on his now cold tea, coughing violently. When he had carried his gravely wounded husband into his childhood home, he had been petrified over the idea of facing his father without his husband by his side. He was not good with confrontation- especially when he cared about who he was confronting- but never in a million years would he have guessed that this was what his father would have said.

Was his father actually planning on adopting Miklan into their family- recognizing their marriage and considering him another son? Impossible. He must have heard wrong. As Glenn recovered from his coughing fit, Rodrigue went on as if his children weren’t looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Of course it would ultimately be Miklan’s decision. I understand if he chooses not to but please let him know that he is always welcome here Glenn,” Rodrigue made deliberate eye contact with his eldest son who looked away lest he loose his carefully maintained composure.

“I-I will. Thank you dad.”

—:—

Sylvain frowned from his seat at his brother’s bedside, the silence between them foreign and tense. It was very clear that Miklan was in pain-both physical and emotional- and realistically Sylvain knew that his brother _should_ have been resting but he had _no idea_ what to say to help ease Miklan’s distress.

What did one even say to the impossible? As far as Sylvain knew, this sort of phenomenon had never happened before and the only person he could think to go to for actual answers was miles and miles away in a classroom teaching the Golden Deer about battle strategies.

Because fuck if the healers here knew anything about what had happened and their attempts to explain it away by divine intervention or fate or whatever other bullshit they had cooked up was doing nothing except making Miklan even more angry and upset.

Finally, Sylvain decided to just say what he had been thinking about since the tower just to break the silence. “Mik, you shouldn’t have take-“

“If you’re going to say that I shouldn’t have stepped in front of that attack, you can save your breath. I had to protect you and given the chance I would do it again. You know that Sylvie.”

He did know that. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Still, his brother was stubborn as a mule and Sylvain knew he would never win this argument. After a moment, the younger man changed topics. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh spectacular,” Miklan replied, his voice sarcastically cheerful. “I have a gaping wound in my side that hurts like hell, am already bored of laying here like a useless slug, and the fucking crest our father prizes more than his actual children just decided to _randomly_ show up right after I had finally found peace without it.”

Sylvain flinched a bit at his brother’s increasingly angry tone, knowing that he wasn’t to blame for any of this but still feeling responsible anyway. “I wonder what father will say when he finds out...”

Miklan snorted, hands curling into fists, “who knows what goes on in that sick head of his? It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not a kid anymore and I won’t let that bastard manipulate us Sylvie. I’m done. Whatever kind of ‘love’ he has to give is toxic and false if it is conditional.”

Sylvain frowned and rested his hand on one of his brother’s white knuckled fists, worried that he was going to cut his palms with his nails. Reluctantly Miklan relaxed his fist but the dark expression on his face was still unnerving to Sylvain.

He was not used to seeing his brother’s face twisted in anger and eyes dark with hate, that combined with the harsh scar cutting across his face- a scar he had yet to work up the courage to ask about- sent a shiver up Sylvain’s spine. Even laid up gravely injured in bed, Miklan could look downright _scary_.

When Miklan felt a shiver come from his brother, his face softened immediately. He never wanted to be the reason Sylvain was frightened, no matter how angry he was. “I’m sorry Sylvie, today has just been...a lot.”

Sylvain folded his hands behind his head, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, tell me about it. The sun has only just risen too. Makes you wonder how much worse today can get huh?”

Miklan snorted, irritable. “Don’t even joke. If the universe has another _‘gift’_ from the fucking goddess in store for me I don’t want it.”

Sylvain didn’t miss his brother’s sneer as he repeated what one of the healers had said about the sudden manifestation of a crest. He had called it a “gift from the goddess herself for your selfless deed” which alone would have probably been enough of a reason for Miklan to punch the guy. In fact, Sylvain was positive if his brother hadn’t been so weak he would have done so without hesitation.

After all, crests had caused both Gautier boys nothing but grief and trouble from the moment they were born. They were more of a curse then a gift.

Sylvain looked over and felt his heart jump into his throat. Miklan had settled back and laid against the pillows, his eyes closed, and for a moment he looked too much like he had earlier- when he lay limp and half dead in Glenn’s arms.

And that in turn reminded him of the nightmare that had been the aftermath of the battle at Conand Tower.

Sylvain didn’t think he would ever forget just how _devastated_ Glenn had looked when he had seen his husband laying motionless in a pool of his own blood- a gaping wound in his side that was leaking even more blood out at an alarming rate. And that anguished cry...

Sylvain shivered. A part of him hoped he’d never find a love so deep that the thought of loosing it could produce such a heartbreaking, desperate sound. 

He swallowed harshly, refusing to think about what happened next- what he would surely have to relive in his dreams for the rest of his days. Fire and pain and monsters and, the cause of it all, The Lance.

Fuck that lance and everything it stood for.

Conand Tower was situated nearly equidistant from the Gautier and the Fraldarius estates- technically in Fraldarius lands but closer geographically to Margrave Gautier’s home. Once the monster had been slain and the Professor, Prince Dimitri, and the rest of the class had learned what had happened, there was a heated debate on what they should do.

Miklan has clearly needed emergency medical attention and the closest source of that was the Gautier estate. Slyvain, Glenn, and Felix had argued vehemently against turning to the Margrave for help, citing his hostility towards his son as reason enough to avoid asking for his help.

Hell, they had spent _hours_ strategizing how to keep Miklan’s reunion with his brother a secret from Augustus and yet it seemed like none of his friends had grasped _why_ they were doing so in the first place.

Dimitri and Byleth, ever the idealists, had argued that regardless of past conflicts, there was no way that Gautier would refuse to aid a dying man- especially one of his own flesh and blood- when the Crown Prince was present as it would reflect poorly on him. That had won over Felix, who was unaware of the true extent Margrave Gautier’s cruelty towards his children ran and was nervously eying his increasingly hysterical brother. With the debate clearly stacked against them and Miklan’s life fading by the minute Sylvain and Glenn had been forced to concede.

Had the circumstances been different, Sylvain might have laughed at the shocked expressions that adorned his classmate’s faces when they arrived and Margrave Gautier fixed his firstborn with a look of complete disgust. At the time, he had been too busy begging his father to let them enter- near hysterical in his desperation.

Sylvain had even turned to his mother, Camilla, and implored her to help as well. The look of shame and anguish that crossed her face at being called upon to help had her floundering in the entrance hall- eyes wide and full of fear as she looked from face to face, weighing her options, before she turned and fled the room like a deer in a hunter’s crosshairs under the accusatory stares of the Prince, Glenn, and Sylvain.

After Camilla had left, Augustus had well and truly kicked them all out and they had turned around to make the trek to the Fraldarius estate where they were welcomed with open arms. At the time, Sylvain had been so angry with his friends for not listening to him back at the tower but now, as he stared out the north facing window towards his family estate, he wondered if them seeing his father’s true nature was enough to help them understand what life had been like for Sylvain and especially his brother.

Maybe Ingrid and Dimitri would drop the cold, near hostile professionalism they used around Miklan. That would certainly make things easier between all of them.

Sylvain flinched when a big hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Sylvain.”

“Ah!- oh Miklan, I thought you fell asleep.”

Miklan snorted, releasing his hand from his little brother. “Nah, just resting. You look dead on your feet though. You should get some rest Sylvie, you don’t need to babysit me.”

Sylvain scowled and turned to argue when the infirmary door opened and the Fraldarius brothers entered. Immediately, Miklan noticeably perked up.

Glenn crossed the room and pressed a kiss to his husband’s forehead, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hey, how was breakfast?” Miklan asked, resting his big hand on Glenn’s thigh.

“Mmm, it went alright.” Miklan tensed as he heard a hint of a lie in his husband’s voice. When Glenn wouldn’t meet his eyes, Miklan turned towards his oblivious brother.

“Hey Sylvie, why don’t you go get something to eat yourself. I’m sure Felix would keep you company.”

Felix scoffed in the doorway, “only if he trains with me afterwards.”

Sylvain carefully read the room, looking from his brother’s slightly insincere smile to the way Glenn had partially pressed himself against Miklan’s uninjured side and was avoiding eye contact, to Felix’s huffy put upon expression as he stood in the doorway. Sylvain wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be: he knew that Glenn had something he wanted to talk about and that he didn’t want an audience so he convinced Felix to keep him busy in the meantime.

Which likely meant that something had happened over breakfast and so Felix would likely also know what was going on.

“Alright sure,” Sylvain finally said, standing up and stretching nonchalantly. “I’ll see ya later Mik?”

“Yeah sure, try not to get your ass kicked too hard,” Miklan retorted, grinning as Sylvain stuck his tongue out at him and left with Felix. As soon as the door closed, Miklan let the smile drop and turned to face his husband, expression serious. “Alright what happened?”

Glenn swallowed and twisted his wedding ring around his finger, only stopping when Miklan reached over and rested his hand over it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing comfortingly. Glenn’s shoulders hitched and Miklan watched as a few tears fell from his husband’s eyes. Concerned, Miklan pulled Glenn as close as he could with his current injuries and let his partner of 12 years hide his face in his shoulder until he was ready to talk about whatever happened.

After a few minutes, Glenn sniffed and sat up a bit, wiping his eyes with the hand not currently holding Miklan’s.

“You okay?” Miklan asked, voice gentle. Glenn nodded. “What happened babe?”

“I...I think my dad wants to adopt you Mik.”

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again if you haven’t read tender and take me home by enamuko you are missing out- they are so so good.
> 
> As always please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it as they are what legitimately help keep me motivated to write.


	4. Letters and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky for all 5 of my readers, insomnia struck at the same time as inspiration so you guys get _another_ chapter- albeit a short one- less than a day later.
> 
> 8/18/20 edit: it is no longer a very short chapter :)
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> —:—

Dimitri woke up to the sound of practice swords hitting each other with accompanying yells of exertion from the training yard below his window. He sat up and stretched, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

10:25 in the morning. He actually slept in for once.

Usually Dimitri woke up at the crack of dawn if he even managed to get any sleep at all. However, given the fact that he’d been awake for over 40 hours straight the days before, it made sense that today of all days he would oversleep.

At the thought of the previous days’ events his stomach turned. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? It had been fairly standard procedure: infiltrate and route the bandits. Sylvain and Miklan had rode ahead to deal with the thief and Dimitri had followed shortly behind them. At the time he had been worried that Miklan might be luring his friend into a trap, preying on his brother’s trust and desire to have him back in his life.

Dimitri swallowed hard, guilt settling in his stomach like a stone at just how wrong he’d been. Miklan had only been reunited with his brother for 2 weeks- the majority of which were spent speaking with Jeralt and negotiating the details of them joining Jeralt’s mercenary group to stay closer to Garreg Mach and thus Sylvain and Felix- and yet when his little brother was in danger he took the hit without hesitation.

And what a hit it was. Dimitri had been just out of sight when the Gautier brothers has first challenged the bandit leader but he had rounded the corner in time to see Miklan realize what was about to happen, drop his weapon, and push Sylvain out of the way of the lance and take the hit for him with a strangled scream of pain. Miklan had then attacked the bandit back, first with his fist and then with his family’s relic- still coated in his own blood.

At the time Dimitri had been frozen. The scene reminding him too much of what happened just 4 years prior: when his father had protected him from the would be assassin’s axe with his own body, pulling his only child against his chest and covering his head with his own arms as the axe fell on his back and paralyzed him from the waist down. Now, he was embarrassed that he hadn’t immediately stepped in to help.

That had been Felix and Glenn, the latter streaking past him in a full on sprint with his brother close behind him at the sound of his husband’s scream.

Then there had been the failed attempt to heal followed by the impromptu wound cauterization that had only served to bring back even more memories- particularly the smell that had permeated the air when their guards perished in the fire and the only mother he’d even known disappeared into the smoke, a look of horror on her face as Lambert passed out on top of Dimitri and the prince had reached out to her...

Dimitri flinched as there was a knock at the door- three firm knocks with exactly half a second between them- that could only be Dedue.

“Your Highness, are you awake?”

“Yes, come in Dedue the door is unlocked.” 

The door swung open silently on its well oiled hinges and Dedue ducked slightly to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe. In one hand he held a tray containing a light breakfast and camomile tea and over the other...

“Dedue, you didn’t need to wash my uniform for me!” Dimitri admonished, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks when he noticed Dedue had also washed his small clothes and binder.

“It is nothing.” The tall Duscan man set the serving tray on the guest room’s small table before crisply folding the now pristine clothes on top of the dresser. “I made you some breakfast since you slept through the morning meal.”

“Ah thank you.” Dimitri cast the sheets aside and got up, stopping by the window to watch Felix and Sylvain sparring with Ingrid refereeing. Unbidden, a faint smile graced the prince’s lips. It had been a long time since the four of them had visited the Fraldarius estate at the same time.

A pity that the circumstances were so poor.

Dimitri turned away from the window and sat down to eat his brunch, mechanically chewing without tasting anything. Still, the smell was wonderful and the idea that Dedue had still thought of him and went out of his way to make him food even while in an unfamiliar abode was both frustrating and charming all at once.

“Dedue, leave the bedsheets and come keep me company,” Dimitri chided, interrupting his friend’s attempts to straighten the bedding.

“Apologies, Your highness. I was only trying to spare you the trouble of doing so yourself.”

Dimitri was tempted to correct his friend, _again_ , about the use of his title but as Dedue came and sat across from him Dimitri let the matter drop.

“You should have woken me earlier, Dedue. We have so much to do and I can hardly afford to laze about in bed all morning.”

“You needed the rest, your highness. Everyone did.”

“True enough but still.” Dimitri pushed his now mostly empty plate aside in favor of sipping his tea.

“Let me-” Dedue made to rise and take care of the plate only to stop midway and sit back down at the glare Dimitri sent his way. “...What is the plan for today.”

Dimitri offered Dedue a smile, happy his friend stopped his incessant need to act as his servant for once without too much fuss. “Well we need to check in with the Professor but I’d imagine we will need to leave for the Monastery before nightfall- after all we are already late enough in delivering our report to the Archbishop and we wouldn’t want her to send the Knights of Seiros out in search of us.”

Dimitri set his teacup down, his expression darkening dangerously at the thought of what else needed doing before the day was done. “I also need to send word to my father about the... _incident_ with Margrave Gautier. The behavior he displayed was unacceptable from such a high ranking noble and it will not go unpunished.”

Dedue frowned, partially at Dimitri’s change in demeanor and partially at the topic at hand. “Indeed. Margrave Gautier’s refusal to lend his aid toward his own son even after his Prince asked for his help was inexcusable.”

“I...I think I’m beginning to fully understand Miklan’s decision to leave. I have never seen Margrave Gautier like that before but Sylvain didn’t look surprised at all- upset of course but he seemed so... _resigned_.”

Dedue closed his eyes, a saddened darkness passing across his sharp features. “If I had to warrant a guess I would say that the Margrave’s behavior last night was not an isolated incident but was instead indicative of how he usually thinks of his son.”

Dimitri nodded, having come to the same conclusion on his own but appreciating the second opinion all the same. “I will have to speak with the others and see if they have any additional information.”

“Very good your highness. I shall take care of this,” Dedue gathered the dirtied dishes onto the serving platter and stood, “and let you get ready for the day.”

“Very good. I’ll see you soon.”

—:—

Dimitri walked out onto the training ground during one of Sylvain and Felix’s breaks- Sylvain sitting on a bench slightly out of breath with an axe at his side while Felix drank some water a few feet away. Ingrid stood behind Sylvain, stretching as she prepared to enter the fray herself.

Felix noticed him first.

“About time you got up Boar, you want to make things two on two?”

Ingrid shot Felix a dirty look but Dimitri halted her usual reprimand about respect with a wave of his hand. “Not today, I actually wanted to ask Sylvain some questions.”

Sylvain tensed up, his carefully maintained mask slipping for just a moment before he forced himself to relax and continue his facade of nonchalance.

“Sure, what can I do for you, your Highness?”

“I was hoping you could elaborate on Margrave Gautier’s behavior the other night.”

Immediately, Sylvain’s facade cracked and he _winced_ in what was obviously a deeply ingrained reaction to any question about his family. After a moment where he seemed to hesitate, his expression hardened into one of determination and he sat up.

“Sure. Where do you want me to start?”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow, setting his pen to the paper, surprised that there would be enough to warrant that kind of question, “the beginning I suppose.”

“All the way back there? Ok.” Sylvain rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight instead of a conversation. “For as long as I can remember, _father dearest_ has treated my brother with either cold disinterest or poorly disguised cruelty and I never understood it. He would get yelled at for _everything_ \- even things that I did. I distinctly remember a time when I broke something and Miklan was the one who got yelled at because he wasn’t watching me close enough. It was always shit like that.”

Dimitri fidgeted uncomfortably, remembering Miklan’s frustrated reaction to whenever he and Sylvain and sometimes Ingrid and Felix would be playing together and someone inevitably got hurt or broke something. At the time he had only been able to compare Miklan’s reaction to the reactions of his friends’ other older siblings when the same thing happened and think that Miklan was being mean but if he was getting blamed and punished for it...

A glance over at Ingrid’s vaguely guilty expression suggested that Dimitri wasn’t the only person who had felt the same way about Sylvain’s older brother. 

“Sometimes I would stand around the corner from our father’s office when he would lecture Miklan and it almost _never_ was actually about anything he did- it would start that way but eventually it would just turn into him calling Miklan worthless and stupid and a disappointing failure. As a kid I didn’t really understand it but now I realize it was because Miklan didn’t have a crest...”

Sylvain trailed off with a dark look on his face- the kind that sometimes sent shivers up Dimitri’s spine seeing such a look on his usually laidback friend- but before Dimitri could say anything, Sylvain locked eyes with him.

“But some verbal abuse is _nothing_ compared to the ‘training sessions’ he would put Miklan through. Mother never let me watch and would send me up to my room but one time I managed to watch through the window and-“

Sylvain’s voice broke and his shoulder’s hitched as he looked away from everyone else. Felix has been gradually drifting closer to the group, his training sword forgotten in his hands while Ingrid had a white knuckled grip on the back of the bench. Sylvain took a few deep breaths to regain his composure and then continued.

“Miklan had been standing in the center of the training field without any kind of protective gear holding a wooden training axe. They had obviously been going at it for a while because I could tell that he was bruised and bloody even from the second story window.

Father was on his warhorse in armor with the Lance of Ruin in his hand. I watched as he readied the Lance and charged forward with it pointed directly at Miklan’s heart and the horse galloping much too fast for Miklan to duck out of the way. Miklan, faced with no other options, had used his training axe to deflect the Lance upward and to the side, hoping to either separate the Lance from father’s hands or create enough of an opening for him to pass between the horse and the blade of the Lance unscathed. However, the already damaged training axe broke before the attack could be properly deflected and one of the barbs surrounding the Lance’s blade scraped across Miklan’s jaw.”

Sylvain wiped at his face, tears leaking out despite his best attempts to keep a blank face. “I heard Miklan’s scream all the way from the second floor as he fell to the ground, only narrowly avoiding the hooves of father’s warhorse. I only saw father slowing his horse as mother ran out to Miklan before I was pulled away from the window by my nursemaid. I didn’t see Miklan again until three days later when he was leaving the infirmary with mother behind him. He looked good as new except for the square of gauze taped to his jaw and a badly hidden limp. I had been confused at the time- what had happened to all those bruises?- I had asked, but Miklan had simply ruffled my hair and changed the topic. The next morning, I passed by Miklan’s room and saw mother applying concealer to his cheek to hide the bruises.”

A loud crack resounded through the training grounds, the sound making Sylvain flinch violently as Dimitri whipped his head around towards the sound. Felix stood, hands clenched in rage as the training sword he had been holding lay broken on the ground, it’s handle splintered from being crushed.

“Jeeze Fe, I’m surprised your family has any money left after replacing all the training swords you break every time you visit.” The joke fell between them like a dead fish as Sylvain attempted to drum up his usual cocky teasing tone but it came off as sad instead.

For a few moments no one said anything as Dimitri scribbled down a few notes, Felix shook with barely contained fury, and Ingrid gently looped her arms around the now openly weeping Sylvain, providing support and comfort the best way she knew how.

“...How frequent would you say your father trained with Miklan?” Dimitri gently asked after Sylvain had regained enough composure.

“Oh a couple times a month maybe? I don’t know, I wasn’t allowed to really watch but that incident was one of the last times. Miklan ran away from home within the year.”

“And did your father ever...do anything like that to you?” Ingrid whispered the question, her voice strained with sadness and apprehension yet determined to learn the truth. “Did he ever hurt you?”

Sylvain gave a humorless laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “nothing like what he did to Miklan, no. He never trained with me- I’m convinced that he only did so with Miklan because he wanted to take his anger out on someone and Miklan was a convenient target- but he did hit me when I asked where Miklan had gone. Then he made mother help me hide the bruises from everyone...she was very good at it. Mostly he just micromanaged my every day and ignored me until I was useful to him.”

Dimitri felt the pen crack beneath his fingers and just had enough time to drop it before the ink splattered all over his notes. Sylvain looked from the broken pen in the dirt to the notebook in his friend’s hands as if noticing them for the first time.

“Are you going to tell your dad?”

Dimitri sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck, “yeah, I was gonna compile a report but if you don’t want me t-“

“Good.” Sylvain stopped Dimitri in his tracks, eyes hard as steel and expression darker than the ink the report was written in. “It’s about time that bastard got what he deserves. Let me tell you about the time father broke Miklan’s nose...”

—:—

Rodrigue stared at the mostly blank stationary on his desk, pen in hand, as he struggled to find the necessary words to send to his king.

How to summarize in one letter the plethora of information he had learned in the last 12 hours?

There was so much he needed to tell his king about his fellow noble’s flagrant misconduct- from the physical and emotional abuse he subjected his children to for _years_ to his refusal to offer Prince Dimitri shelter and aid. 

Then there were the things he wanted to talk about not with his king but with his oldest and dearest friend, Lambert. The news that Glenn was back- safe and sound- and was once again residing within the Fraldarius estate...

Rodrigue was so overjoyed that the only thing keeping him from mounting Nimlos and riding full tilt towards Fhirdiad to tell Lambert in person was the fact that he couldn’t leave his sons’ side after everything that happened.

So the letter would have to suffice; if only he could actually figure out how to write everything down.

Just as Rodrigue was getting ready to crumple up the stationary in frustration, there was a knock at his office door.

“Come in!” The carved wood door opened and Prince Dimitri stepped inside, a sheaf of parchment in his hand. “Ah your Highness! You look considerably better rested than you had when you arrived. What do you need?”

Dimitri took a seat across from Rodrigue’s desk, setting his papers on the polished surface. “I was hoping you could help me finalize this draft. I’m writing a letter to my father about Margrave Gautier and I asked Sylvain for more information. I wrote down what he had to say here.”

“Certainly, your highness.” Rodrigue held out his hand for the paper, privately relieved that his own letter just got a lot easier to draft. Rodrigue replaced his pen in its inkwell, adjusted his reading glasses, and started to read through Prince Dimitri’s findings.

With every sentence Rodrigue felt his face get paler. Apparently Sylvain had a lot to say on the matter of his father- and a long list of incidents that highlighted just how _horrible_ life under Augustus Gautier’s roof was for the brothers. By the end of it, Rodrigue was sure his face was as white as his sheets and his eyes the size of dinner plates.

Verbal abuse. Broken bones. Bruises. Beatings. Scars hidden by makeup. Neglect. Threats of violence. Secrets. Forced isolation- the list never ended.

“I...” Rodrigue trailed off, finding that there were no words. Carefully, he put the letter down, removed his glasses, and wiped his face with his shaking hands, trying to wipe away the horror of what he read along with it.

“I had much the same reaction as well.” Dimitri quietly collected his letter, carefully realigning the pages into a neat stack. “Once I got Sylvain going...it was like he couldn’t stop. I don’t think he’s ever told anyone about any of this until now.”

Rodrigue folded his hands together on his desk and rested his forehead on them, focusing on taking slow deep breaths lest he do something rash. “Margrave Gautier’s days in His Majesty’s good graces will certainly come to an end as soon as he receives that letter. It...might be best to deliver it in person.”

Dimitri nodded, unsurprised. “I had planned on it. The Professor agreed to stop in Fhirdiad on the way to Garreg Mach,” his eyes fell on Rodrigue’s half written letter pointedly, “I was wondering if you also had a letter for my father that I could deliver for you.”

Rodrigue smiled gently, “that would be much appreciated, your highness.”

—:—

“Wait!”

The Professor along with all her students- barring Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid- stopped their preparations to leave the Fraldarius estate and turned as Glenn sprinted towards them, a letter in hand.

“Glenn, why are you here? I thought you were staying with Miklan.” Dimitri’s eyebrows were raised as his friend’s older brother stopped in front of them, only slightly winded from his sprint.

“I am, I just-“ Glenn held out the letter in his hand to Byleth who took it and flipped it over to read who it was addressed to. “I spoke with your father about it before we left but some of our men were on their way to the monastery to offer their services as well. The plan was for us to meet them there but...well...” the swordsman fidgeted under the gaze of the surrounding students. “If we aren’t there then they’ll get suspicious so I, uh, wrote that to tell them what happened and where to find us.”

“Who should I give it to?” Byleth asked, her voice unnerving despite it’s soft tone. “I can’t read their name.”

“Oh just give it to any of them- they’ll know who it’s for.”

As Dimitri made to peer over the professor’s shoulder, curious, Byleth purposefully tucked it away in the folds of her coat with a nod.

“Understood. It will make it to the intended recipient.”

Glenn sighed in relief- both that he had managed to catch them in time and that he could run away from the curious looks everyone was giving him. “Thank you. I’ll...let you get on with it then.”

As Glenn retreated back into the safety of his childhood home Byleth turned back to what she had been doing as if nothing had happened.

Of course that only made her students more curious about the letter.

“...so? What did it say?” Annette burst out, practically vibrating in excitement.

“I already told you I couldn’t read it,” Byleth calmly replied, unfazed by the intense looks her students were giving her.

“Oh, it could be some kind of code!” Mercedes added. “Maybe we could help you figure it out. That way you can deliver it to the right person.”

Byleth paused, resting her cheek on her fist in thought- conflicted. Her students made a good point however... 

“If he wrote it in code then perhaps he doesn’t want us to read it.”

“We would only read the address- not the contents,” Dimitri added, also curious despite his attempts to hide it.

“...very well,” Byleth sighed, pulling the envelope out from within the pocket of her coat and holding it out.

Immediately Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette clustered around it, starring at the unfamiliar symbols and murmuring excitedly. Beside them Dimitri tried to look over their shoulder but couldn’t quite manage it.

Byleth, however, wasn’t looking at the envelope at all but was instead looking at Dedue. The tall Duscan man’s face had lit up in recognition as soon as he glimpsed the letter and his expression was now thoughtful.

“...Dedue? Can you read what this says?” she asked, voice as hauntingly gentle as ever. As soon as the words left her lips the others turned to look at their classmate.

“Yes. It says _Filami Kade_.” Dedue paused looking a little uncomfortable, his eyes closed and brows knitted in concentration. “There...isn’t really a direct translation.”

“Can you try?” Ashe asked, his light green eyes bright with excited energy.

“Yes. _Filami_ is a term one uses for a child they see as their son or daughter without them being blood related.” Dedue opened his eyes and met Byleth’s gaze steadily. “This letter is essentially addressed ‘for my son Kade.’”

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes I know- another cliffhanger. Please don’t kill me.
> 
> As always please leave a comment/kudos if you like the story. My interest in writing a fic is heavily tied to your feedback so if you want more content, a comment is a good way to motivate me.


	5. Kade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/18/20- IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: the previous chapters have all been edited and overhauled to better mesh my original vision for this story with the current plans for where the story is going. No significant plot points have been changed but there have been many additions to the story to better flesh out what I was intending. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND that you give this story a reread from the beginning.
> 
> With that out of the way please enjoy the new chapter- it’s been a long time coming.
> 
> —:—

The year was 1180, 5th day of the Horsebow Moon. Kade rolled over in his bedroll, his receiving blanket tangled around his legs, and rubbed sleepily at his eyes as outside his tent he could hear the sounds of the mercenary gang making breakfast and beginning to get things together to break camp.

Today they were _finally_ due to arrive at Garreg Mach- it seemed like they had been walking for _ages_ to get there.

Kade shimmied out of his nest of bedding and shivered at the chilly early autumn air, pulling his patterned blanket around him in a shawl. The young Duscan boy pulled his boots on and got up, rolling his worn bedding up and putting it away in his pack. As excited as he was about finally get to see the amazing building he had only ever seen from a distance, he was more excited to see his _patamis_.

Ever since that day over 4 years ago where they had saved him from those slavers, he hadn’t spent more than a few days away from them at a time. These past few weeks had been the longest they’d been apart and he was eager to be back under their protection again.

Not that he didn’t love the others- they were all like family to him- but Miklan and Glenn...

They were different. They had _saved_ him and kept him protected from those who gave him dirty looks and spat. They spoke to him in Duscan and encouraged him to speak in his native language as well. They taught him how to read and write and protect himself between missions.

Kade loved his _patamis_ and it was hard being separated from them.

Once everything was packed away in his bag and he had done his best to pull his messy shoulder length hair up into a ponytail, Kade stepped into the early fall morning and blinked a few times to get used to the light.

“Well good morning,” a muscular woman with short dark hair smiled at him, her eyes teasing playfully. “I was about to come in and drag you out myself but now that you’re up come help me with breakfast.”

Kade yawned and made his way over to the fire pit, standing beside the squatting woman. “Sorry, I couldn’t fall asleep last night. Whatcha need done Greer?”

“Here, make sure this doesn’t burn. I’m going to help Nadia with her tent,” Greer handed over the skillet and spatula before standing up and walking over to where the second youngest member of their mercenary group, a 15 year old blind girl, was carrying her pack and her father’s while he fetched their horse.

When Miklan and Glenn had sent word to their group about a standing job offer they’d received at Garreg Mach that included room and board, about a third of their people decided to take them up on the offer which was frankly surprising to Kade. Nearly everyone- himself included- was... _weary_ of either the Church of Serios, the Nobility, or both and the Monastery was a hive of pious nobles and clergy. Their mercenary group- The Fódlan Mercenary Coalition, or FMC- was meant to be a haven; a place where those who could not otherwise find honest work could come together and, through collective bargaining, get paid for their work fairly- and as such it attracted people from all walks of life.

Their people were...diverse to say the least. Among their ranks there were people of all genders, sexualities, and backgrounds. There were people who were disabled- blind, deaf, mute, missing limbs- who worked along side everyone else. All had a place and were treated equally, from those who were nobles to those who were thieves. There were people from every country in Fódlan- Almyra, Dagda, Brigid, Albinea, Duscur, Sreng, and even someone from Morfis- a country so mysterious nearly nothing is known about it.

As Kade looked around their camp, he suspected that most of the people who excepted the job offer were doing so either because Miklan and Glenn would be there or because they wanted the stability of a roof over their head. The later was certainly true for the Albini’s- Nadia and her father Brian- and the Almyran orphaned twins Marta and Lucas. However, everyone else was close friends with Kade’s adoptive fathers and himself.

On the other side of camp Sadia- the only other Duscan in their group- and her Dagdan girlfriend Kirie were working together to pack up their tent. Judging by the reduced number of loud swears from Kirie, only the occasional ‘fuck’ peppered in among the sound of rustling canvas, things were going rather smoothly for once. Brian was checking the straps securing his packs to the horse while Nadia fed her guide dog Buttons. In the shadows cast by the surrounding trees, Shikoba- an agender man from Morfis who tutored Glenn in magic- was polishing their beloved skull and speaking softly to it in a language no one else understood. Greer, after bundling up Nadia’s tent, had turned her attention to Kade’s own tent and was taking it down for him- always helping him out and acting ever motherly towards the 11 year old boy. 

Sitting on the log adjacent to Kade was Samira, a warrior from Sreng and a long time friend of Miklan. Her dark brown skin glowed in the early morning light as she carefully secured her numerous gold beaded braids back into a even bigger braid- a process that she accomplished so easily and that never failed to mesmerize Kade. Catching his eye, she offered a smirk.

“Your eggs are burning kid,” she commented, looking pointedly at the skillet left forgotten over the fire. Kade swore a mean streak in his native language as he hastened to salvage their breakfast, much to Samira’s amusement.

—:—

When their group set foot in the town at the base of Garreg Mach just past midday, Kade was already anxious just being in the shadow of the monastery. The street leading through town to the gates was bustling- the crowds mulling around and the sound of dozens of people speaking over one another enough to make Kade stick just a bit closer to Greer and Sadia, nervous despite himself.

As a rule, crowds and Kade didn’t mix well. He was a young orphaned boy from Duscur and was often the subject of glares and distain from strangers. Usually his _patamis_ shielded him from the hatred of others but without them Kade was always nervous.

While eyeing his surroundings intently, Kade accidentally bumped against Sadia’s side. As he paused to apologize for bumping into her, the older Duscan woman had glanced down at him and, sensing his apprehension, placed a big warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to her side. On his right, Greer stepped forward with purpose to walk ahead of him while Samira sidled up to take her place, tussling his hair affectionately as she passed. Behind him, Kade heard the tell tale rustle of Shikoba’s robes and he utilized his unsettling mannerisms to loom- protective and menacing- over the youngest member of their group.

As if on cue, the other members of their group shuffled closer- sticking close to one another as they approached the massive iron gates of Garreg Mach. The Tadala twins pressed their hands together and stepped closer to Kirie while Brian gently guided his daughter and her guide dog closer to Samira, covering her flank. Perhaps it was overkill but they had all been burned in the past and they were loathe to walk into uncharted territory unprepared.

Greer stopped in front of the massive gates, face a mask of professional neutrality just short of welcoming. As she took in the situation, the guard stepped forward to acknowledge them and she cleared her throat. “We are here to meet with Captain Jeralt to discuss employment opportunities.”

The Gatekeeper nodded, “and who is meeting with him?”

“We represent the Fódlan Mercenary Coalition and we were sent a missive detailing a standing contract to merge with Captain Jeralt’s own men.” Greer withdrew the very official looking scroll from her pack and handed it to the surprisingly friendly Gatekeeper.

As the young man lifted his visor to better read the missive, Kade noticed an Almyran boy carrying a bucket of water for the few mounted knights on horses to the right of the gates. While the boy who couldn’t be much older than Kade himself held the heavy bucket, Gatekeeper finished authenticating the letter and looked over his shoulder.

“Cyril! Could you fetch Captain Jeralt from his office and tell him he has guests waiting in the Entrance Hall?” When the boy, Cyril, set the bucket down and set off to do as he was told, the Gatekeeper cranked the gate open and held a hand out. “Follow me, it won’t be very long.”

Still on guard, Kade felt Sadia guide him forward with the rest of the group to stand in a vast hall with marble floors and heavy tapestries bearing the Crest of Serios hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Kade was acutely aware that they were being watched- a pair of robed men looked over at them with the same expression his mother used to make when he’d track mud onto her favorite rug- barely hidden distain bordering on disgust.

Kade stepped just a little bit closer to Sadia and looked away, watching the water fountains bubble while a group of two girls and a boy wearing matching uniforms chatted amongst themselves. One of the girls was about his height and had her copper red hair pulled back into twin loops while the other had her long pale pinkish blonde hair tied to the side with a ribbon. The boy had messy short gray hair and was speaking to the two girls under his breath, his back to them.

As Kade watched the trio, the taller girl noticed the group and looked over, scanning over the faces before her eyes landed directly on Kade, her pale grey eyes widening in what looked like a revelation of some kind. Her fellow students (what else could they be?), noticing her expression, also turned to regard their group with curiousity.

Kade felt Sadia’s strong hand press him firmly against her side and one glance up at his _sorami_ showed that she was also unnerved. After all, these students seemed to be focused almost solely upon the two of them and their reaction was not what they were used to.

Usually people reacted to his and Sadia’s presence much the same way the clergymen had- with barely hidden contempt- so the way the three were staring with some sort of...recognition in their eyes was unsettling.

 _”Ignore them,”_ Sadia whispered in Duscan, her soothing voice and steadying presence enough to make Kade look away. _”We won’t let anyone hurt you.”_

Kade nodded and fixed his eyes ahead at the group heading towards them- his stomach clenching at the unexpectedly large number of people.

Leading the group was a bearded man with a tall, strong build and the aura of a mercenary: Jeralt the Bladebreaker. To his right was an oddly intense woman dressed in black with a strange looking sword at her hip and to his right was a young blonde man dressed in the same uniform as the other students with the addition of a blue cape draped over his shoulder.

But Kade’s eyes were immediately drawn to the last person of the arriving group- a tall Duscan youth with a stern expression and a dangling gold earring marking him a follower of Sol. Looking around, Kade saw that Sadia was also fixated on the same youth while most of the others were staring at Jeralt.

Jeralt stopped in front of Greer and looked them over with an appraising eye, “You guys the FMC members that are joining our battalion?”

“Yes,” Greer spoke, voice professional and steady. “Captain Jeralt I presume?”

“The very same.” Jeralt gestured to his right, “Ah yes, and this is my daughter, Byleth. She’s a professor at the academy and was the one to introduce me to your men.”

Greer looked her over and asked what everyone had been thinking, “speaking of, where are Glenn and Miklan. It was our understanding that they would meet us here.”

“Oh- yes,” Byleth reached into her cloak and retrieved a folded letter, “I was instructed by them to deliver this to a Kade- it supposedly explains their absence.”

As soon as his name left the woman’s lips the entire mercenary group seemed to close in around him, Kade’s view of Jeralt and his entourage were suddenly obstructed by the bodies of his family and friends.

“I’ll take that,” Greer held out her hand for the paper which Byleth handed over. Greer glanced at the writing and handed it back to Sadia without taking her eyes off Byleth.

Kade looked up and Sadia read over the letter quickly, recognizing the handwriting as Glenn’s and the language as Duscan. Upon deeming the contents to be genuine, Sadia handed the page down and immediately he started to read from the top.

_Filami,_

_As you already know we took a standing job here at the Monastery to be closer to our brothers. I’m sorry that Mikki and I aren’t here to greet you but something happened during our last assignment._

_Miklan got hurt. Bad. He’s going to be alright but it’ll be a while before he’s truly back on his feet. We’re staying with my father in the Kingdom- a long story that I’ll tell you more about in person- and while I know you don’t like trusting nobles and being in the kingdom anymore than we do, Duke Fraldarius is very trustworthy._

_Besides, I’m sure Greer wouldn’t let anything happen to you even if he wasn’t._

_Be safe on the road here, especially if it rains. The roads get dangerous after a storm. We’ll see you soon._

_Your Patamis,  
Miklan and Glenn_

_PS- please bring our clothes with you. We don’t have anything right now because we hadn’t planned on not returning to the monastery right away. They’re in our room- if you need help finding it ask Professor Byleth or her father Jeralt._

Kade felt his throat tighten, handing the letter back to Sadia who communicated an abridged version of it’s contents to the gathered mercenaries. As one they all looked to Byleth.

“How did this happen?” Samira asked, a dangerous kind of hurt flaring in her eyes at the image of her best friend badly hurt somewhere far away from them.

“Ah, perhaps I can clear things up,” the blonde spoke up. Before he could continue, Samira leveled him with a glare.

“And who are you?” She demanded.

“I am Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, I am in the same class as Miklan and Glenn’s brothers- both of whom are childhood friends of mine.” The prince cleared his throat, looking among the faces for the most receptive and addressing Greer in what was clearly a practiced speech.

“On our class mission this month we were sent to route some bandits. All was going well until the bandit leader was cornered by Miklan and his brother, Sylvain. The leader made a move to attack Sylvain and Miklan took the hit for him. The weapon used is powerful and wounds caused by it require advanced medical treatment. We took him to Glenn’s father’s estate for treatment and, unwilling to leave Miklan’s side, Glenn forwarded that letter to fill you all in.”

Before Samira could say another word, Sadia cut in, her eyes locked on the Duscan youth standing behind the Prince. “What is your name?”

The young man looked up, eyes slightly widened at being addressed. In front of him, the Prince made a surprised noise and stepped to the side and gestured the man forward. “Oh! This is my vassal, De-“

“I didn’t ask you,” Sadia bluntly cut the young man off, fixing him with a cool look before making deliberate eye contact with the Duscan boy in front of her. _”What is your name, brother?”_

The young man hesitated a bit before answering, almost seeming uncomfortable having a conversation in his native language in front of others. _”My name is Dedue. I am a Student at the Officer’s Academy.”_

_”Were you there when our friend was hurt?”_

Dedue locked eyes with Sadia, face serious. _”Yes. His Highness speaks the truth. He is an ally of our people.”_

Sadia studied the younger Duscan’s face for a long moment before sighing and acknowledging his words. Kade looked around- it was clear that no one besides the three of them in the entrance hall understood what they were saying and the reactions between everyone varied wildly.

The Professor, Captain Jeralt, and the three students who had been lingering in the corner were watching Dedue with expressions of curiousity- like seeing a friend demonstrate a skill you didn’t know they had. Prince Dimitri, on the other hand, looked at Dedue with the sort of expression Kade often saw Glenn make when Miklan would practice axe throwing- a sort of happy entrancement born of watching a loved one do something well. 

But not everyone was so amenable to Dedue and Sadia speaking in their native language. The monks who had previously just given them dirty looks were now full on glaring, their expressions distrustful and body language suggesting that they were about to cause a scene. Unconsciously, Kade moved to hide behind either Sadia or Samira and immediately both of the strong warrior women returned the glare back at the monks.

For a tense moment, no one moved, and then Professor Byleth pointedly cleared her throat. 

“Prince Dimitri is planning on leaving to travel back to Fraldarius territory tomorrow morning,” Byleth gently nudged Dimitri forward, snapping him out of the death glare he was locked in with the monks.

“O-oh yes. I wanted to extend the invitation to you all as well,” he made a gesture to the mercenary group clustered around Kade. “It’s clear you’re all very... _close_ and I’m sure Glenn and Miklan would appreciate some friendly faces while staying there.”

“I’ll go,” Samira said, her hand on Kade’s shoulder tightening. “It’s a good thing I’ve been so generously _invited_ ,” she rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her words like venom, “because that’s my best friend you’re saying is ‘greviously injured’ and like _hell_ was I gonna consent to just sit here on my ass and twiddle my thumbs waiting for news.”

“Same.” Shikoba spoke up, his heavily accented voice haunting in its lyrical intensity. Even after everyone gathered had looked at him, he didn’t elaborate.

Sadia looked down at Kade, indecision in her eyes. It was clear that while his _sorami_ wanted to stay with him, she was nervous about traveling into Kingdom territory and- if the way she kept glancing at her rambunctious girlfriend and barely suppressing a wince was any indication- she was even more worried about setting Kirie loose in a den of nobles.

Greer seemed to have also caught on to her sister-in-arms’ dilemma and cleared her throat. “I’ll take him Dia, you stay here and keep the rest of these idiots from setting the place on fire.”

“Is that everyone then?” Dimitri asked. After no one else volunteered, he nodded and excused himself to make further preparations and recruit the help of some other professor. As he strode off back the way he came, Dedue fell into step behind him.

“Well now that that’s settled, we should discuss the employment contract,” Captain Jeralt spoke up, his voice mellow and commanding all at the same time. “If you’ll follow me back to my office, we can get the paperwork all sorted.”

“Kade?” Kade looked over at the young woman in black- Professor Byleth- and remembered that she was one of the people Glenn had told him he could trust. “If you want I can take you to your room.”

Kade shook his head, gesturing to the letter he had clutched in his hand. “Could you actually take me to Miklan and Glenn’s room? They want me to pack some stuff for them.”

“Of course, follow me.”

—:—

Kade stood in his _patamis’_ small dorm room, letting his eyes take in the obviously lived in surroundings. The mercenary barracks were located to the left of the entrance hall in a large stone building behind the stables. Professor Byleth had made sure to give Kade directions on how to get back to the market, the cafeteria, and the entrance hall and had also made sure to gently warn him against wandering as the monastery was easy to get turned around in and that everyone was very...on edge due to recent events that she hadn’t elaborated on.

The thought of running into those monks from before while alone and in unfamiliar territory was enough to convince Kade that he would just stay where he was until one of the other mercs met up with him. Besides, he had a lot on his mind.

Gently, Kade trailed his fingers over the sturdy wood of his adoptive parent’s bunk bed- the thought of which was absurd. Glenn and Miklan shared a _one person bedroll_ , there was no way that the top bunk in their room would ever be used. Sure enough, while the bottom bunk had rumpled sheets and blankets and two pillows that had seen better days, the top bunk only held their mostly empty packs.

Stepping on the lower rung of the ladder, Kade dragged the bigger of the two packs down from above and over to the wooden dresser on the back wall. After pulling the drawer open, Kade opened his _patamis’_ waterproofed leather bag and stopped.

There wasn’t a lot still in the bag- a small pouch containing their soap, a journal Miklan used for battle plans, book keeping, and the occasional letter, a bottle of oil for...stuff (gross), and most importantly, the official looking scroll case containing his adoptive fathers’ marriage certificate. Kade reached into the pack and pulled out Miklan’s journal- thumbing through the pages just for something to do with his hands.

Miklan was hurt. Bad. That’s what Glenn had said anyway and Kade had no reason not to believe him- in fact, he had every reason to believe that it was worse than he had been lead to believe.

After all, his parents were known for their recklessness and high tolerance for pain and injury. For gods’ sake Miklan had shrugged off a fucking _slash across his face_ as if it was nothing.

Kade bit his lip at the memory of how Miklan received that particular scar- how if it hadn’t been for him and Glenn, Kade would have been sent to the hands of Mors that night.

He had been 8 at the time- newly orphaned and a captive of a group of slavers who had intended to sell him on the black market. Kade hadn’t known hardly any Fódlani and had been absolutely terrified when he made a run for it. He hadn’t gotten far before his captors had caught him and, in their anger, they had been preparing to kill him when from out of the darkness a giant man with flaming red hair had singlehandedly killed two of the men and had the third on the ropes.

The leader of the group had managed to get one good swipe in on Miklan but Glenn had finished him off. After that, they had taken Kade in and given him a home- spoke to him in Duscan and taught him Fódlani. They protected him from the hatred of the world and gave him the knowledge and skills to defend himself when all else failed.

All at once the fear of being away from his adoptive fathers’ and knowing that one of his saviors was badly hurt and miles away crashed over him like a wave and Kade sank to his knees, tears welling in his eyes. It wasn’t fair- why was it that bad things only ever seemed to happen to good people?

Kade cried softly, muffling the majority of his tears in his receiving blanket- the only thing he had left from his biological family. The colorful wool had been hand dyed by his grandmother and woven as a gift for his pregnant mother. It had been with him since birth and it remained a major source of comfort for him.

Kade lost track of time as he quietly cried for his _patamis_ and the injustice of it all. It wasn’t until there was a quiet knock at the door that Kade was startled out of his misery.

“Kade?” Kirie called through the door, her usually energetic voice gentle, “can we come in?”

Kade got to his feet and shuffled over to the door, opening it and letting his _soramis_ into the room. Kirie was the first to enter and immediately the short woman pulled him into a fierce hug, her wild hair tickling Kade’s nose. Behind her, Sadia crouched down slightly and wrapped her girlfriend and her adopted little brother in a hug as well. Greer was next, standing behind Kade and dropping to one knee to better pull him against her chest. 

As soon as Greer had joined the group hug, Samira had entered the room. The tallest of all the women, she stood to the side and gathered the whole group up into a tight hug and _lifted_ , pulling them all up a few inches off the ground with a loud grunt of joy. Kirie immediately broke into laughter- her laughs sounding like a wind chime in a thunderstorm.

Kade cracked a smile and Samira gently lowered them all to the floor, fondly tussling Kade’s hair as they all dispersed.

“That’s better!” Kirie elbowed Kade’s side gently, her infectious energy rejuvenating Kade like a long nap might. “It’s not right to see you so down in the dumps. Miklan will be _fine_ \- the letter even said so!”

“Yeah,” Samira cracked her knuckles, “if he dies I’ll bring him back to life just so I can kill him myself for being stupid.”

“Come on,” Greer smiled, rolling her eyes fondly at her friends, “we’ll help you pack.”

“Thanks guys,” Kade sniffed and gave them a watery but genuine smile, “I needed that.”

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave a comment and/or kudos before you go- I’d love to hear what you guys think about the OCs and the new additions to the story.
> 
> Kirie and Sadia are enamuko’s OCs, everyone else is mine.


End file.
